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So, please, someone explain this to me like I’m a four year old. Why is everyone hating on models these days? People are suddenly angry that models look like, well, models. Of course these women are not representative of the general population. That is exactly why they are paid stacks of money to walk back and forth in clothing that nobody would ever wear ever. If I went to some New York fashion show expecting Iman and saw Julie from Customer Service and Charlene from Accounts Receivable walking the runway, I would be freaking pissed. I see people that look like me every day: yelling at the cashier at Target about an expired coupon or sleeping it off in their car behind the bar I frequent. When I crack a Vogue, I’d like to see a seven foot tall woman with 1% body fat who can contort into the letter R, essentially wear pots and pans and make it fashionable. That’s art. I’ve watched enough America’s Next Top Model to know how goddamned hard it is to smize.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, so many people have their panties in a bunch over dumb crap. Do we really need models representative of every single type of person out there? The short answer, no. Do we take random dumbasses and give them jobs at NASA? Hell no. Now come on, in what parallel universe would I ever want to see fashion models that look like ME? An oompa-loompa with scoliosis, an unfortunately shaped rib cage, a short torso and extra-large calves. She’s not going to do shit to sell that designer fragrance. Imagine replacing Christy Turlington with this science-experiment-gone-wrong in those Calvin Klein Eternity commercials. Suddenly it’s not some sensual ad noir but instead some fucked up Robin Hardy short that will haunt your nightmares for years to come. (Hey Millennials, do you even know who Christy Turlington is? Are there any Millennials even reading this blog? Does anyone else fucking hate the term Millennials?)

The longer answer: we need to propagate a culture of self-acceptance and self-esteem. We’re not all models, ok? We’re not all NASA-level scientists. Instead of whining when the world doesn’t include us or when it’s unfair, we just work that much harder at what we ARE good at. For example, I’m very good at evenly distributing butter or jelly or what have you on a piece of toast. I’m fucking awesome at that. And that’s about it so I embrace it. I try and make toast daily. The moral of this mind-numbingly dumb story is stop demanding that the fashion industry change and start improving yourself, and teach your kids how to do it better, too. Stop wasting your life bitching about things. Maybe eventually we can get to a place where we see a tall, thin, pretty person with pointy collarbones and a ridiculous thigh gap in a movie or on a magazine cover and say, “Well, that’s just fine.”